The Political Cost of Defections: Lessons from Kenya's History

The issue of political defections has unsettled many supporters of Raila Odinga, particularly as visits to State House by various leaders continue. This anxiety stems from fears of betrayal, but history tells a different story. Defections, far from weakening political movements, often strengthen them while spelling the end of the defectors' careers.

Defections in Kenya have historically had devastating consequences for politicians, particularly in regions where loyalty to the majority will is paramount. Nowhere is this more evident than in regions like Western Kenya, where the political cost of defying the masses is often terminal.

One of the most illustrative examples is that of Agnes Ndetei, the former Kibwezi MP and Deputy Party Leader of the Democratic Party under Mwai Kibaki. After Kenya’s first multi-party elections in 1992, Agnes was a rising star in Kenyan politics. However, in 1993, she made the fateful decision to defect to KANU—the ruling party—against the will of the people. Like many politicians, her reasons likely included personal challenges such as financial struggles.

However, voters never forgive defections. Even in areas considered impoverished and less educated, like Kibwezi in Makueni County, the people remembered. Agnes Ndetei’s decision effectively ended her political career. In the next election, she suffered a humiliating defeat at the hands of a political newcomer—Kalembe Ndile.

What followed was a stark reversal of fortune. Once a powerful figure with influence far beyond Makueni, Agnes was relegated to obscurity. Today, she is reportedly known for selling herbal remedies in local markets within Makueni. Her fall from grace serves as a warning to politicians: defection can mark the beginning of the end.

Agnes Ndetei’s story is not unique. Many other politicians who defected to KANU in the early 1990s met similar fates. Figures like Nicodemus Khanari of Kitutu, Tom Obondo of Ndhiwa, and Protus Momanyi of Bochari all defected from opposition parties to join the ruling establishment. The result? They were politically wiped out and faded into irrelevance.

The lesson is clear: defecting to the establishment against the will of the masses is a politically suicidal move. When Kenyans see defections today, they need not panic. Instead, they should pity the defectors because history suggests their political careers are on borrowed time.

Looking back, this phenomenon is consistent. In Kenya’s history, the people have demonstrated remarkable political memory. They may forgive many sins, but betrayal—especially in the form of defection—is seldom forgotten. Politicians who defect must understand this reality and, if they choose to do so, ensure they have the financial means to survive because the people will likely shut the door on their political ambitions forever.

Historical Parallels and Lessons for Today

Kenya’s struggle for a better future has always been defined by the will of its people. Take, for instance, the events of March 14, 1922, when thousands of Kenyans gathered at the Central Police Station in Nairobi, demanding the release of Harry Thuku, a nationalist leader. The peaceful protest turned tragic when the soldiers opened fire after a woman named Rosemary Nanjiru approached them. Official reports claimed 20 deaths, but the true figure was likely close to 1,000.

Such sacrifices underscore the power of collective will and the heavy consequences of betrayal. Leaders must always remain mindful of the people’s voice, for history is unkind to those who abandon it.

Even during President Moi’s regime, his rise from a "good man" to a leader associated with brutal authoritarianism reminds us of the transformative—and often corrupting—power of the presidency. Moi, though he avoided extreme measures like mass killings, detained political opponents, showing how the system can bring out the worst even in well-intentioned leaders.

Interestingly, Moi’s refusal to host Deputy President William Ruto later in his life may have carried a deeper message for Kenyans. Perhaps it was a silent warning about the choices we make as a nation and the need to elect leaders who have already shown their true nature.

Conclusion:

Defections, though unsettling in the short term, often carry their own political justice. The defectors’ careers tend to end swiftly, while the movements they abandon grow stronger. Kenyans should not fear defections but instead view them as a natural cleansing process in politics. History has proven time and again that the will of the people prevails—and those who betray it do so at their own peril.